


Yellow

by jazzfic



Category: Big Bang Theory
Genre: F/F, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzfic/pseuds/jazzfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She allows herself to be lead. Penny's a very good leader, and takes great pleasure in showing the wheres, whens, and hows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Porn Battle XI, the prompt nightmares.

The comforter is spongy and cumbersome beneath Amy's folded legs.

Penny asks: _Why? Do you like my hair?_

 _I like how long it is_ , replies Amy. She'd like to touch it.

 _So...touch_. Those very pretty lips tweak softly as if responding to a joke. Penny's long hair swings back and forth.

Amy doesn't know any jokes that would cause anyone but a tenured professor or scientist to react in such a spontaneous and natural way. They're not even jokes; she's stretching the point for the situation to fit. It seems wholly unnecessary, here, on a bed, in a half-lit room.

So she reaches across.

And Penny looks away, with a tiny little smile.

 

-

 

 _I would like to touch you_ , is Amy's version of a sweet nothing. She has several similarly themed, for all contingencies.

She allows herself to be lead. Penny's a very good leader, and takes great pleasure in showing the wheres, whens, and hows; she uses her body to demonstrate; this suits Amy very well.

It's quiet in this room, it's soft on the bed. She hears her own breathing, feels her reactions as they gather and flood inside of her. Amy repeats things in her head, _I like, I want, I need_. She doesn't need other people. She only needs to feel.

 

-

 

Her mother worries. She worries her quiet and staid heart out worrying about Amy; Amy, who is twenty-eight and will add another digit to that number come March, who spends the exact same hours of every day in her lab, and will likely do as much for the same years to follow.

Amy has no real thoughts on the matter. Worries are needless distractions and without substance. In a world without dimension, sound or sight, they would be a colour: yellow.

(At school, the other girls would scratch messages on the bathroom walls. A loves B. B hates A. Terrible lies, if she had ever truly felt them. This is Amy's:

these are worries for the future

for a girl who's grown up

this is fear of human contact

this is a nightmare, make it stop.)

 

-

 

Maybe she says it out loud, Amy, perhaps she begs, because suddenly Penny's murmuring _shh, sweetie_ , by her side, her voice a soft noise in the dark. And with the help of her hands and her lips, it does.


End file.
